


Taking Notice

by lindentree



Category: Friday Night Lights
Genre: Community: cliche_bingo, Multi, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-03
Updated: 2010-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindentree/pseuds/lindentree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Tim could remember the first time he ever noticed a girl noticing him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Notice

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [cliche bingo](http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/), for the "backstory" prompt on my card. As such, it takes place prior to the first season of the series, when Tim is in junior high.

Tim could remember the first time he ever noticed a girl noticing _him_.

It was the summer before eighth grade. He had a growth spurt that year, and rapidly went from being short and scrawny to being tall and muscular, suddenly towering over his junior high teammates. At first he was excited purely for the benefits in football; he found he could take down most of the guys on the team with ease, and his coach moved him to fullback to take advantage of his new strength and his single-minded determination to slam other players into the turf.

Then Tim found that his growth spurt had another benefit. He was good looking, and girls knew it.

The day this new reality first made itself known to him, he and Jason were at the pool along with everyone else in town. They were goofing off as always, throwing each other around in the water and taking turns doing flips off the diving board when the lifeguard wasn't watching. It was Jason who noticed first, stopping their horseplay and looking over Tim's shoulder.

"Look," he said. "Don't make it too obvious, but those girls are checking you out."

"What?" Tim whispered, looking self-consciously over his shoulder, assuming someone was making fun of him. A small group of girls was sitting on the edge of the pool at the shallow end, dangling their feet in the water, watching him with looks in their eyes he couldn't quite identify. They had to be at least 14 or 15, and when he shaded his eyes to get a better look at them, they all dissolved as one in a fit of laughter.

"Why are they staring at me?" Tim asked, worried.

"Because they have the hots for you, obviously," Jason said, as though it truly was the most obvious thing in the world. "Dumbass."

"Oh," Tim replied, frowning. He glanced back over his shoulder and met the eyes of one of the girls. He recognized her as one of the Panther cheerleaders, a high school girl. He gave her an experimental little nod, and she looked away, blushing.

By the time school started that fall, Tim had it figured out. All he had to do was stare at a girl across the cafeteria and she would blush. When he got called on in class, he would smirk and say something stupid, and all the girls in the class would giggle like he'd said something hilarious. He felt them trailing behind him in the hallways in little packs, and everywhere he went, whispers followed him. On Valentine's Day, he got 114 candygrams, more than any other boy or girl at Dillon Junior High.

Jason and Billy both thought this was a riot, and they kept elbowing him and saying, "Just wait 'til you get to high school and start playing for the Panthers!"

Tim tried to focus on football, on getting ready for Panther tryouts the following year, but it was hard to concentrate because not only had girls started to notice Tim, but Tim had started to notice girls. One girl in particular.

Her name was Lyla Garrity. Everyone in Dillon knew the Garritys – they were kind of hard to miss with loud, blustering Buddy Garrity as their figurehead. His eldest daughter was his opposite in every way – she was sweet and soft-voiced, and everyone loved her.

Tim first noticed Lyla in January of eighth grade, when she sat directly in front of him in Social Studies. Tim had always known Lyla, given that they'd gone to school together since kindergarten. He'd just never really _noticed_ her before, not until she sat in the desk in front of him on the first day of the new semester and turned around in her seat, a big smile on her pretty face.

"Hi, Tim. Did you have a nice vacation?"

The highlight of Tim's Christmas vacation had been Billy buying him a case of beer, and a check for $50 from their dad.

"Sure," he said, his throat dry, his face refusing to form its now customary leer. "How 'bout yours?"

"It was great, thanks. My dad took us skiing in Aspen. It was _sooo_ much fun," she said, her voice like velvet. Tim gulped.

"Sounds good," he muttered, staring down at his desk. He was relieved when the teacher began talking, and Lyla turned around. Tim stared at the back of her neck, her tanned skin shadowed by disobedient wisps of dark hair escaping from her long, perfect ponytail.

Social Studies had been torture before, but it was even worse now. Tim spent every class glowering at the back of her head, willing her to turn around and say something so he could embarrass himself yet again by merely staring blankly at her, choking on his words.

"Oh Tim," she'd laugh, when he responded with yet another mumbled _I dunno_, "You're so cute."

Eventually he mustered up the guts to ask her out, but the thought of trying to make conversation with her for an entire evening made him feel sick to his stomach, so at the last minute he told her that his friend Jason was coming along, and she should bring a friend, too. Like a double date, he said, trying to make it sound as though he'd been on a date before.

This would turn out to be the biggest mistake Tim had ever made.

Tim's big date with Lyla turned into _Jason's_ big date with Lyla, only with two awkward hangers-on. The friend Lyla had brought with her couldn't even make eye contact with Tim or Jason without blushing furiously and hiding her face behind her large, plastic-covered menu. Jason and Lyla ignored them both completely, sitting there talking animatedly and beaming at each other. Every other phrase out of Lyla's mouth was, "Wow, we have so much in _common_!" although Tim couldn't figure out exactly what that was, except that they both lived in Dillon, loved Panthers football, and were perfect in every way.

Maybe they did have a lot in common, after all.

By the end of the following week, Jason and Lyla were officially boyfriend and girlfriend, and Tim was officially their third wheel. Outside of school, the three of them became inseparable, and Jason talked all the time about how great it was going to be when, next year, Tim and Lyla moved up to high school and joined the football team and cheerleading squads, respectively.

"Just think about it," Jason would grin. "Every Friday night. We're going to _rule_ that place."

The junior high held a dance at the end of the year to toast the students moving on to high school the next fall. Lyla was somehow allowed to have her high school boyfriend attend, probably because she was Lyla Garrity and her boyfriend was Jason Street, and they never seemed to be denied anything.

Tim didn't bother getting a date or dressing up for the dance. He arrived with Jason and Lyla, and ditched them as soon as he could, preferring to stand in the darkness along the walls of the gym. There he could drink from the mickey he had snuck in duct-taped to his calf, and glare at the slow-dancing couples in peace.

"Hey," came a voice from beside him. He turned to find Tyra Collette leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. She glared out at the dance. "Pretty damn lame, huh?"

"Yeah," Tim replied. "I hate these things."

"Me too. You're a freak if your daddy doesn't buy you a brand new dress for your lame-ass date to puke cheap booze all over."

Tim looked at her from the corner of his eye. He knew her from around, knew she was in his grade, but she looked at least two years older than the other girls, given how tall she was and the way she was dressed – a tight denim mini-skirt and an even tighter black and gold tanktop, and a pair of black knee high boots, whose worn leather had been doctored with a black felt pen. The straps of her bright pink bra showed, and her many necklaces and bracelets clinked whenever she moved. It was fair to say he also knew Tyra by her reputation.

"Besides," she scoffed. "They call it a farewell dance like we're actually saying farewell, like we're not going to see each other all summer and on the first day of high school. It's sick."

"Yeah," he agreed, his eyes once more landing on Jason and Lyla, who were dancing close while some stupid, sappy song played. Lyla was gazing up at Jason like he was the most wonderful thing she'd ever set eyes on. Tim scowled. Why was Jason even allowed here? He should be at the high school dances with high school girls.

"You wanna get out of here?" Tyra asked.

Tim turned to find her staring at him. One eyebrow was raised as if in a challenge. Tim smirked, then felt a genuine smile tug at his lips when he saw the same smirk spread across her face. It was strangely like looking in a mirror.

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. "Let's go have us some _real_ fun."

By the time high school started, they were boyfriend and girlfriend. The most satisfying part about dating Tyra Collette (aside from the very regular sex and enjoying the company of someone whose home life was almost as screwed up as his own) was the way Lyla's blissful expression faltered every time Tyra came up and wrapped her arms possessively around Tim before saying, "Hey there, Garrity. Rescue any puppies this week?"


End file.
